


If You Give It to Me I'll Give It Back Much Harder

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF, oneyplays
Genre: Amicicide, Blood and Gore, Gen, Insanity, im sorry, its all the death, no I’m not, shipping isn’t the main focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lyle walks in on something he really didn't want to see.
Relationships: Zach Hadel/Chris O'Neill
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	If You Give It to Me I'll Give It Back Much Harder

Lyle waved as the car pulled away and left him on the wide driveway. His phone was in his hand, and on its screen was a few notifications of some texts. He peered down at the screen and tried to look through the fingerprints that were made evident by the glaring sunlight. 

He reread a few of the texts just to double-check that he was under the correct impression of what he was doing. With such a thin wire he was walking on, he didn't want to misstep.

C: Hey man, it's been a while  
C: You wanna come over and record or something?  
C: Zach's coming too

L: Wait, really?

C: Yeah!  
C: That is if it's not messing with anything you're doing right now

L: No, of course not!  
L: Just tell me when to come over, and I'll be there

C: in 20 mins?

L: I'll be right there

C: Thanks ya stinky :)

This sudden invitation confused Lyle. For the past month, Chris had been dead silent. Not once after many repeated calls and concerned texts had the dirty blonde answered. All different types of people, both friends and family, tried to contact the man, and not a single reply was returned. Chris had completely and utterly isolated himself from the outside world. Now he suddenly wanted to record again?

Some details Lyle was already suspicious about. He remembers that all of this happened not too long after Chris and Zach started acting strange towards one another.

They were best friends, an inseparable duo, and everybody knew them as that. Yet before Chris's crisis, they didn't seem so stuck together. Something about them was off, and that was made blatant by their behavior.

They looked like they couldn't stand to be in the same room together anymore. Constant passive-aggressive glares and undertones in their speaking. Hostility and short tempers caused by the most insignificant of reasons. It was slightly intimidating to watch from a third-person perspective. 

Lyle remembers talking to other friends in the past about it. They would all say the same thing he was thinking. They were suspecting something was up, but none of them could be bothered to ask about it. Lyle really wanted to, but a part of him felt it was rude to do so.

The arguing only got worse and more tense. The two became farther and farther apart. Simple interactions between them felt so complicated. Lyle was there to observe most of it, but he wasn't sure what to think.

But it was one night so many weeks ago that something snapped and the bridge was finally crossed. There was yelling through the door, and Lyle remembers hearing something getting thrown and shattered. He never knew what exactly had happened in the room, but with the way Zach stormed out and marched his way home, Lyle knew precisely what had become of the two men's friendship.

Chris was on the floor, crying. A vase was broken on the floor opposite of him. Lyle wanted to comfort him, but he told Lyle to just leave and pretend nothing ever happened. So Lyle did just that, and ever since that day, Chris never spoke, and Zach acted like Chris wasn't even someone he heard of before. Anytime anyone would ask questions, he'd be oblivious to it. 

It was kind of heartbreaking to see such a close pairing break apart so violently. It was all so fast, but ever since the first signs of it, it was inevitable. The most concerning part of it all really was Chris's reticence.

Twitter and Reddit were confused by the lack of Oneyplays videos. Friends tried to contact Chris but with zero success. Everyone and everything went dark, and it was like Chris wasn't even a part of the world anymore. Almost as if he was... dead.

Now though, on a day with no real significance, Chris wanted to speak again. He wanted Lyle to come over and record. Not only that, but Zach was going to be there. Why was Lyle tied into this mess? Maybe because he was there for their final argument. Perhaps because he was the only one to show real concern. That or maybe Chris just needed a third person there in case things with Zach went south.

Whatever the reason was, Lyle knew that he was going to be there for the two, and maybe things could go back to how they were before.

Lyle walked up the stone pattern driveway and to the front door of the O'Neill residence. It had been a long time since he entered this door. The last time he did, it didn't end so well. Now though it would go better, Lyle was sure of it.

His hand moved up and found it's way to the small button next to the entrance. He made contact and pushed down, causing a ring to echo through the inside of the house. Now all he had to do was play the waiting game. It would be alright since it never took long for anyone to answer.

Lyle stood patiently with his feet on the ground and his hands in his pockets. His eyes wandered the street the house sat on, and his mind pondered the possibilities of the next few hours. A large portion of him couldn't help but feel as if something was going to go wrong, but he had to stay optimistic.

As he stood and reflected, it took him a second to notice that no one was coming to answer him. He glanced back at the closed door and turned to ring the doorbell a second time. There again was that bright ring that bounced off the walls of the interior. More moments of waiting, and there still was no sign of life inside the residence.

Lyle cupped his hand over his eyes and pressed his face close to the glass of the window. He peered through and looked around, trying to find any hints of anyone inside. Not a single movement or a voice. 

Lyle slipped his phone from his pocket, checking his text messages for another time. He had checked these things so much that he had them memorized by now. After another run-through of the words, he found that he hadn't misread anything. Chris didn't mention anything hinting towards a different location or time. Maybe it was just taking him a moment to get to the door.

A few more uncannily long seconds went by, and now Lyle was knocking on the door. His knocks were strong and firm, trying to get someone's attention from inside. There still was nothing. Zero response coming from the house, which remained still and lifeless. Lyle checked through the window again, hoping that someone would just answer him.

He decided to put his phone to an actual use and pulled up Chris's contact. He pressed on the dial button, and a low hum was emitted from the device. He held it up to his ear and waited for someone to answer him. After a moment of listening, he recognized a familiar ringing coming from behind something, and he looked to the door. He waited a few more moments, listening in to make sure he heard what he thought he did.

Yep. That was Chris's phone ringing inside. So he was either home and just couldn't hear Lyle, or he had left his phone here and went off somewhere. But why would he go off right now when he scheduled this?

Lyle decided to knock again except this time harder than the last. Yet still zero replies, and now Lyle was feeling a sort of impatience stir within him. He felt guilty for feeling upset, Chris was going through a rough time right now, but Lyle had things he could be doing.

This was taking an unneeded amount of time. Was something wrong? Should Lyle be concerned? Were Chris and Zach just messing with him?

Zach. Maybe Lyle could try calling him.

Lyle did just that. He brought up the other man's contact and phoned it as well. More ringing and low hums. Now Lyle's ears were open, more so looking for any nearby noise instead of an answer from his device. He got exactly what he expected.

There was Zach's ringtone. It sounded close, but something about it was muffled, like it was under something. It wasn't coming from inside but instead right next to Lyle's feet.

His eyes were brought to the floor and looked around the concrete. He searched for the source of the ringing, and during his search, he found something quite unexpected. Little dark spots lined the floor, and tiny pieces of something transparent were scattered around it. They glistened in the sun, and a trail of them led to a little potted plant. Lyle took notice of its slight shaking. The ringing was coming from behind it.

Lyle kneeled down and pulled the little fern to the side, hearing the small pieces grind between the pot and the concrete floor as he did so. It made him cringe slightly, but when it was entirely out of the way, he noticed a familiar case lying on the floor. Zach's phone was right there in front of him.

He tried to pick it up but pulled away when he felt something stab at his finger. He sucked air in through his teeth in pain and looked at his fingertip to find glass sticking out of it. He quickly flicked it off and tried to pick the device up again except more cautiously this time. It had stopped ringing at this point.

When the mobile was finally turned over, he was surprised and slightly shocked to find it was completely shattered. The screen was in pieces, and it was clear what the sparkling specks around him were. In fact, after closer inspection, it seemed that the phone had been deliberately stomped in. Someone meant to break it and for what reason Lyle wasn't sure. It was after even closer inspection that he found out those dark spots on the ground were on the phone... and they were a deep red.

Lyle stood upright instantly. His eyes darted around, looking for any signs of nearby danger. Suddenly he was on high alert, and ideas bloomed in his mind. What the hell had happened?

"Chris! Zach!" He called through the thick glass window of the front door and knocked frantically on the entrance. "Guys, are you okay? What happened to Zach's phone?" he yelled, and then he got an idea.

His hand moved down to the doorknob and jiggled it. It only took a second, but the door was successfully pushed open, and Lyle caught his breath. He held it for a second, remaining still, and hesitantly pushed it open further.

It creaked open slowly and eerily. The house was tense and still. A silence hovered over him like a predator observing his every movement. A large part of him was screaming for him to just walk away and try to call Chris again or something. This atmosphere felt dangerous in a way. Something was horribly wrong. He reasoned it down to him just being paranoid though, and that maybe nothing was wrong. The image of Zach's phone told him otherwise.

He entered. Slow, cautious steps he took and into the unknown he went. The walls, the furniture, everything about the place he had seen before. He had been here so many times, yet something about it was so different. It felt like a stranger.

All the curtains were drawn shut, and not a single light was on. Everything was obscure, and it took a second for Lyle's eyes to adjust from the bright outside to this new environment. The place was dusty and felt heavy with something negative. 

His feet took him into the main living room, and he noticed the large TV was lit up, and the ps4 menu was on it. The music hummed lowly from it, and it emitted a haunting feeling, like it was mocking him.

He looked at the couch and took notice of the imprints on it. Something about them wasn't right. It didn't look like someone was just sitting on it, but it was instead messy and unkempt, looking like someone was struggling on its cushions. Then a dim flickering light was presented in the corner of Lyle's eye, and he glanced at it to see one of the console's controllers on the floor. It to was damaged, and the light struggled to stay on, fighting for its life. A notification flickered on and off the television screen, warning the nonexistent player of a disconnected controller.

Unease became heavier in Lyle's chest, and the only thing holding him up was his racing heart. Uncertainty to continue juggled around in his head, and when his eyes met the floor, he felt his fight or flight senses erupt.

Those dark red splotches covered the hardwood floor, and they gradually became more prominent as a trail of them lead down a hallway. Lyle recognized the hall as the one that led to two rooms. Chris's bedroom and a bathroom.

His curiosity and concern got the best of him. He stood and crept his way to the hallway. He peeked around the corner, and there in front of him were the doors of the two previously mentioned rooms. One was dark and shut, but the other was slightly ajar, and the faint trail of mysterious markings led to it.

Lyle was almost positive of what those splotches were on the floor. Their color and smell were enough to prove it. He was still silently praying that somehow they weren't what he thought they were.

He approached the door, and the closer he became, the louder his heart was. He could feel it palpitating in his ears, and his breath was becoming cumbersome. Static buzzed in his mind as thoughts rushed through his conscience. What could be on the other side of the door terrified him. As he got closer, the sounds coming from the room didn't comfort him.

He tried to peer through the crack and get a sneak peek of what to expect. A hunched over figure on the other side of a fluorescent light was present. The shape's uneven rise and fall of their back, along with the weak sobbing noises, showed that they must've been in tears.

"Chris?" Lyle asked mostly to himself. The figure didn't move. Now he was concerned, and any sense of skepticism he felt before had temporarily vanished. His need to comfort a friend overtook any caution.

Lyle built up the courage to finally push on the door, and his eyes eagerly looked inside. The second he did, his nose was hit with a metallic stench, and a gasp escaped his lips without warning. He felt his stomach churn, and he held a hand over his face to prevent his gag reflex. His eyes watered from the overwhelming sight in front of him. He actively felt himself jump out of his skin.

Now he wished he had listened to himself and just left the house when he still could. It was too late to turn back now because Chris was in that room and looking over to Lyle. He had been alarmed by Lyle's gasp, and his eyes looked vacant and glazed over. Blood was covering his cheeks.

In his trembling grasp below him was a pale and limp hand. That hand was connected to a body that laid lifeless without even a rise or fall of its chest. A significant amount of red liquid spilled from its chest and soaked into the fabric of the clothing it wore. A deep and crimson wound was bored into its heart. The weapon of choice was made apparent by a bloodied knife that laid on the floor.

Lyle was scared to look to the face of the body, but he already knew exactly who it was. He bit the bullet and looked to the head, feeling his blood run cold as he saw the cold and distant face of Zach.

His nose looked horribly disfigured, and red leaked from both nostrils. Liquid bubbled in his throat and spilled over his parted lips. One of his eyelids were purple and bruised.

"Lyle," Chris's raspy voice finally spoke, and Lyle's attention was brought to the sobbing man. His eyes were bloodshot, and tears streamed down his cheeks. His own lips were dark and bloody, his body trembled, and both hands were holding tight to one of Zach's. His knuckles had noticeable bruises on them. His clothing was covered in a scarlet color, and so were his hands and face.

"What the fuck happened?" Lyle finally managed to muster. His voice barely sounded like he was speaking it.

Chris stood, but Lyle took a quick step back. His hand was gripped tight on the doorknob, and he too was quivering. Chris flinched when he saw his friend move away, and more tears pushed their way from his eyes.

"Lyle," Chris's voice cracked. "I- I didn't mean it," he shook his head and lifted his hands to hold his face. He wept harder before collapsing to his knees and curling into a ball. Lyle knew this was his chance to run, but something about this made Chris look vulnerable, defeated. Lyle decided to step closer to him, feeling as if he was walking into a starving lion's den.

He kneeled down, and his hand lightly held Chris's shoulder. The second contact was made Chris lunged at him like a leech and wrapped his arms around him. He whimpered into Lyle's shoulder, and Zach's blood was now on his own clothing. He felt repulsed and anxious, but he just patted Chris's back and held him close.

"What happened, Chris?" Lyle tried to stay collected. It was working for the most part. His eyes stared into Zach's, and he couldn't help the heavy heart in his chest. The empty stare from Zach was unnerving.

"I-I didn't me-mean it," Chris gripped onto Lyle's jacket and held him tighter as he forced out a response. "He was just be-being so... loud... a-and scary," he sounded like a panicked child. "He was going to h-hurt me-e,"

"How was he going to hurt you?" Lyle's brows furrowed.

"H-he was just s-so angry at me,"

"Chris, take deep breaths and explain what happened. Then we can go from there," Lyle was now recovering from the initial shock of the situation. He was still inwardly panicking, but he needed to calm Chris down.

"I... he was going to ca-call the p-police. I.. I couldn't let him," The image of Zach's shattered phone came into mind.

'What? Why was he going to do that?" 

"I-I punched him... then it-it felt good... I hate him, Lyle. I hate him so much. It was so... satisfying," Chris's finger twitched, and his voice was replaced with something a little darker.

"So much... so much repressed anger can do stuff to people,"

"Okay... uh... you know what? Let's go to the living room. You sit down, and I'll-" Lyle's nervous tone was blatant, and he was in the act of trying to stand. He was caught in Chris's grasp as fist clenched the front of his jacket and yanked him down harshly. Now their faces were painfully close, and Chris's eyes were a tint darker than before.

"You won't tell anyone? Right, Lyle?"

"I..," Lyle didn't get a chance to respond before there was another harsh tug.

"You're going to tell people!" Chris's voice was raised to a shout, and Lyle felt himself crumbling under his friend's new psychotic look.

"No- I-" Lyle tried to pull away, but a sharp pain shot up his jaw as Chris punched him. He was sent flying back and laid on the floor. He took a second to recover and tried to stand, but Chris was already towering over him. His eyes were burning with a sort of rage that Lyle had never seen in a person before.

"I can't let you!" Chris shrieked before he threw his arm up, and the blade glistened in the lamplight. The only light source in the entire house. The red on it dripped down, and Lyle's first reaction was to throw his arms up.

He let out a terrified howl as agonizing pain flooded through his arm. The blade had been brought down and pierced his forearm. Blood gushed out and down his skin, unto his face. Chris didn't falter, not even at Lyle's desperate screams. 

Lyle never felt as motivated as he did at that moment. The amount of adrenaline rushing through him allowed him to shove Chris away, taking the blade with him. Chris fell back, and Lyle shot up. He looked in horror at his newly acquired wound and held it close to himself. Vibrant red stained his jacket and his hand. Continuous throbbing pulsed through his arm.

Chris was quick to stand, and he gritted his teeth. His fists were so tight that his knuckles were pale. He spun around and gave Lyle a look that reminded him of a rabid animal.

Lyle only had one option now. Run.

He spun around and hugged his arm close to him as he sped out the door. Chris was just close enough though that he dashed up to Lyle's side and shoved him over. Lyle rolled away before Chris could bring the knife down upon him again, and he had to crawl away. His only goal at that moment was to get a barrier between him and Chris. 

He found his way to the bathroom door that was parallel to the bedroom door and rolled to it. He tried to slam the door closed but struggled as Chris's weight pushed against it.

"Chris, what the fuck is wrong with you!?" Lyle shouted, needing to let something out. Somewhere in this monster was his friend, and he just wanted to see him again so badly. The last time he truly saw him was months ago, long before things with him and Zach got rocky.

"Nothing! It's Zach! He's wrong! It's him!"

"Zach is fucking dead! You killed him, you psychopath!"

"He was going to ruin me!" Chris shouted back, and Lyle finally gave one last harsh shove to the door. He slammed it closed successfully, and never before had he turned a lock so quickly.

"Chris, it doesn't have to be this way!" Lyle shouted as he took a few wary steps back. He found a light switch and flipped it on to reveal the bathroom to him. The door was bending a noticeable amount as Chris continued to ram into it.

"This isn't you, man! I-I know you're in there somewhere!"

"I'm gone, Lyle! I was gone a long time ago!" Chris spoke through gritted teeth in the most malicious way he had ever heard. "You can thank Zach for that!"

"Chris, please, just tell me what happened! I can help you! We can figure this out!" Lyle bluffed as he looked around for some way out. Unfortunately, there was not a window in sight, and the only way out was through that door. God, why didn't he listen to himself earlier?

"I-I don't know anymore, Lyle! I've gone insane! I can't think straight! I don't know who I am anymore!" Chris sounded like he was on the verge of breaking down. The banging on the door became light and less persistent.

"Just start from the beginning. We can work through this together," Lyle reassured. A part of him as telling the truth, but most of him just wanted to buy more time to look for a way out or a weapon.

"Oh dammit Lyle, it's all Zach's fault! Him and his stupid face and his stupid decisions," Chris gave one last harsh bang when he spoke the deceased man's name, but after that, he stood still. Lyle didn't speak up, but instead listened.

"He fucking started this shit a few months ago," anguish tarnished his previous tone, and once again, Chris didn't sound like a bloodthirsty monster. "We were hanging out, and-and things got weird. We were drunk, and I guess we just got a little bit too close. We did something we both regretted, and I just wanted to forget about it, but Zach wouldn't fucking let it go,"

Chris had altogether ceased his banging, and now Lyle listened close. His original mission to escape was still on his mind, but his curiosity kept him focused on Chris's words.

”Any little thing we did, he'd get weird about. He treated me like I was some disgusting wad of gum someone left on the bottom of a chair. He made sure I knew that too. Oh, the shit he'd call me. Any little thing would be wrong, and it just built up over time. I started to get angry back, and we'd get more and more physical. Then we were going to record that one night, and he fucking threw my vase at me. All because I wanted to finally settle our differences and be friends again. He didn't want to hear it and stormed out. You heard a part of that one. I was embarrassed when I noticed you were there,”

"So I hid myself away because Zach won. After a month of that snot-nosed piece of shit telling me I was disgusting and should be ashamed. He fucking won. I sectioned myself off and locked myself into isolation. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Chris, why didn't you just talk to someone? I would've been there for you,"

"I'm embarrassed. I'm ashamed of myself for even telling you this right now. Especially covered in the blood of... oh... oh god... holy shit," Chris sounded as if he had just noticed the red that had stained his clothes and skin. Lyle even took a glance in the mirror next to him and felt his stomach twist when he saw blood leaking from his arm and staining his clothes. A bruise formed on his jaw where Chris had previously punched it. As his adrenaline lowered, the pain became more significant. Weak little whimpers came from the other side of the door.

"Oh, then we talked over the phone earlier today. I thought we made up. Zach sounded like he had calmed down, and so did I. I invited him over to record, and I asked you to come too so that I'd have another person here. Zach got here before you though and... oh my god... we got angry again," Chris's voice sounded like it was winding up, back into the hostile way it was before.

"Chris," Lyle muttered, but Chris didn't listen.

"Then he said some stuff, and I don't know what, but it pissed me off in a way I couldn't imagine. I felt so... I don't know, but I punch him square in the face, and then his nose started to gush. He said he was going to call the police, but I smashed his phone before he could. He tried to run, but I pulled him inside. We fought. He broke my fucking controller. Then the next thing I know, I'm driving a knife into his heart. Over and over and over and over," Chris continued with his overs. After each one, he spiraled deeper into his insanity, and Lyle realized that the old Chris was gone. He needed to get out of here.

"Then you came in Lyle, and you know what? You always come in at the worst times," Chris pounded on the door once again, but this time, it wasn't with his fist. Instead, his foot hit it, and a significant dent was kicked into the thin wood. The door was giving in, and Lyle needed to think quick.

He frantically scoured the cabinets next to him, and fortunately enough, he found a pair of shears on a shelf. They were thin and dulled, precisely what he needed.

Just as they fell into his hand, he heard the door click and turned to see Chris had kicked the door in enough to turn the doorknob lock. He swung it open, and in the doorway, he stood.

Lyle held up his newly acquired weapon, and Chris held tight to his. Chris's was by far much larger and sharper, it's red-tinted metal was threatening. Lyle held onto hope.

Chris was utterly gone. His eyes were wide and shrunken with manic insanity. His eye twitched, and his breathing was unpaced. The knife shook in his grip.

"Chris, please," Lyle sounded desperate and vulnerable, hoping this would lure out the human side of Chris. It didn't work.

Chris lunged at him with the blade held in front of him, and before Lyle could react, he felt something plunge into his hip. He let out one final outcry before he lifted the shears and brought them down upon Chris. A sickening squelch sounded as they dug into the back of Chris's neck and burying themselves into his flesh. Red shot out since Lyle ended up hitting an artery, and Chris almost immediately collapsed. He hit the floor with a heavy thud, and his eyes were like dinner plates.

Lyle slowly descended to his knees and clutched the knife that still protruded from his hip. He felt himself weaken as more blood escaped his body from both his arm and his side. He looked to Chris and could see those last little glimmer of him escape his body. His soul was gone, and now Lyle was left with nothing but a shell.

Even though he just won, Lyle was defeated. He felt empty from how much emotion he had already spilled. All of his fear, guilt, and sorrow were lost. He felt dried out and exhausted. Breathing became a pain, and every part of him ached.

His vision flickered, and he started to fall into a coughing fit. He shakily reached for his phone and was able to find it in his mess of a jacket. He pulled it out and immediately dialed 911. The ringing didn't last long before a pleasant woman's voice answered.

"911, what's the nature of your emergency?"

"I-I'm bleeding out on the floor of my friend's bathroom. I have two major stab wounds in my forearm and my hip,"

"Okay, sir, is anyone else there with you?"

"My two friends... they-they're dead... one of them killed the other than he fucking tried to kill me. I stabbed the back of his neck," Lyle voice cracked as he explained his situation. He looked down at Chris's body and had to look away, unable to take in what he had done. "I had to,"

"What's your name and the address of your location, sir?"

"I... I'm Lyle Burruss... and I'm at-" Lyle nearly finished his sentence, but a harsh kick to his jaw caused his teeth to cut through both his sentence and his tongue. He let out a barely audible "fuck," and blood flooded his mouth.

He felt the knife being pulled from his hip and looked down to see Chris somehow still breathing and holding it.

"Shh," he whispered and moved up enough to drive the knife into Lyle's chest.

"Lyle? Sir? Lyle, are you on the line?" the 911 operator asked, but now Lyle was genuinely unable to answer. Everything was becoming darker. His breathing was more painful, and it got to the point of him not even trying. He was weak. He was dying.

Chris collapsed next to him, and now Lyle was sure he was dead. It was too late for himself, though. The 911 operator repeated his name, but what was done was done. He was following Zach and Chris to the grave.

Oh god, how he wished he could just go back in time to the night of Zach and Chris's argument. He wished he could do more than he actually did. It was too late now, though. It was over.

And with that, Lyle went numb.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit this is longer then I meant for it to be. Uh, I hope I didn't traumatize anyone. Good day lads.


End file.
